


Big Feet

by septembersongs



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, flying cunnilingus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24112540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septembersongs/pseuds/septembersongs
Summary: Bog comes looking for Marianne while she's training blindfolded.
Relationships: Bog King/Marianne (Strange Magic)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 69





	Big Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Formerly posted on [Tumblr](https://september-sui.tumblr.com/post/159441776743/strange-magic-fic-big-feet).

She has never stopped training with her handmaidens, and today is no exception, knocking her handmaidens away as they try to get at her despite her blindfold. She’s been going faster for the last while, which pleases her. Progress is progress. She used to not be able to control her senses at all.

Then the buzzing sound–only one person makes that sound. She continues batting the pixies away, but she still can’t help smiling a little. 

“Hey love,” he calls as he approaches. She knows he doesn’t want to startle her; it’s so sweet that he cares, even though he knows she can tell it’s him. 

By the sound of his wings, he’s somewhere under her, and coming close. 

“You’re not going to try to surprise me with a sudden duel, are you?” she asks, and a pixie rams itself against her ribcage. “Ouch!” 

“I’m unarmed,” he says.

She tilts her head. He would have been coming straight from a dreadfully dull meeting she’d left him at; there’s no way he would have left off his scepter. He hates being without his scepter on this side of the border. “Really?”

“Here.” And she can feel both his hands wrapping around her boot. “See? No weapon in hand.” She feels and hears him lay a kiss on the side of her foot, and her handmaidens collectively coo “aawww!” in delight.

“Hmph, all right.” She swivels her head, expecting another pixie to come at her, but their presences recede a little, as if they’re wary of approaching. Then she feels his lips press against the side of her knee. 

“Ooo!” cry the pixies, and they giggle as he lets her ankle go, and she can feel him waving them away. 

“Bog…” 

“Sshhh, keep your blindfold on, or you’ll ruin the surprise.” 

She laughs, feeling for her scabbard and slowly sliding her sword in; she’s not confident enough to do that quickly without slicing her fingers, and while she contemplates this, he kisses the inside of one thigh.

“Bog!” 

But he traps her wrists before she can pull off the blindfold with one large hand–damn his clever hands–and the other presses against her buttocks, keeping her close so she can feel his head between her legs.

“You’re not wearing leggings today,” he breathes, and she’s sure she can feel his cheekbones as his face splits into a wicked grin she’s come to see a lot lately. Oh, he’s sometimes still unsure, her lover, but he’s never _un_ creative.

“Yes, well.” She blushes. She could claim it was too hot to wear leggings, but they have been frisky lately. “I, uh, I thought you would, you know–appre-ci-a…” and her words are lost in a moan as his tongue–his wretchedly long tongue–dips into the cleft between her legs. 

“Mmhmm,” he replies, nodding his appreciation, lips moving over lips, and he demonstrates his most _prehensile_ skill with his tongue. She’ll never get over it undulating against her most sensitive spot, while the tip flicks between and across folds of skin that feel heavy with heat. She still feels the cloth over her eyes even as her eyes roll back with bliss, and she’s doing everything she can to stay flying. 

“You need to stop,” she pants. “What if someone comes by?”

“Nn-mm,” and between the gravelly vibration of his reply and the shake of his head and what that does with his tongue, she’s almost undone, clamping her thighs around his head. At her next whimper, he lets her wrists go, sure she’s too distracted to want to take off her blindfold. 

He’s calculated right; she grips his head, her shins on his shoulders, doubling over. The wind from his wings fan her face cool, but everything else is heat, heat, and more heat, glowing from between her legs. 

She doesn’t realize it but she’s practically breathing down his back, and as his tongue presses deeper inside of her, she loses her breath in a sharp gust–his body shakes in response to his sensitive spots being brushed–he growls–and that takes her over the edge with a soft scream. 

It takes her a moment to notice that her wings are barely beating, and he’s supporting her kneeling on his shoulders, her hands still around his head that’s craning up to look at her. She has no idea where the blindfold is or when he took it off. His light blue eyes are crinkled in delight. “You all right?” he croons. 

She can feel the silly grin on her face as she nods. “Ye-aahh.” 

As her dazed eyes focus to take in more of their surroundings–still in mid-air, the afternoon sun dappled on them–the wink of an amber catches her eye. 

“You said–hf–unarmed?” She still can’t quite articulate, but she remembers clearly he said he was unarmed, but his scepter–lodged between his toes–what extraordinarily large toes they are!–and it strikes her as so ridiculous, she cringes, shakes her head.

“I’m still practically unarmed… I’m holding you with both hands, aren’t I?” 

He sounds so reasonable, she starts laughing. They both are as he slowly lands them on the ground.


End file.
